


Can't Reach My Soul

by SpyMiss



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Angst, Fantasy, Gen, Hurt, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyMiss/pseuds/SpyMiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Thirteen days and nights had gone by since they'd put him here, and they hadn't given him anything but dry crusts and tepid water. The chain around his legs clanked, as he stretched his sore body in the dirty straws.' Arthur Kirkland's life gets swallowed by darkness when being accused of using witchcraft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Reach My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Within Temptation - Frozen.
> 
> I can't feel my senses  
> I just feel the cold  
> All colors seem to fade away  
> I can't reach my soul

The early sunlight hit the tree bells and awoke the first birds. Grass and heather swayed in the light breeze. The wind found its way in through the bar covered window and caressed his pale cheek. But Arthur did not notice. Not the wind. Not the beautiful sun. Nor the pain. Actually there were very few things, he noticed anymore. Thirteen days and nights had gone by since they'd put him here, and they hadn't given him anything but dry crusts and tepid water. The chain around his legs clanked, as he stretched his sore body in the dirty straws. Turning his head away from the window, he let his gaze wander about the small room. The filthy floor was made of wood and he could feel the cold through his thin clothes. Small drops of water found their way down the solid stone walls. The only way out of the tower was through the entrance in the floor, but he knew it was locked and guarded from the other side. Slightly restless Arthur stood up and walked over to the window.

He knew it was there. The village. Hidden behind the woods, he was not able to see it, but it was definitely there. The place where it all started. Resting his forehead against the rough bars, he let his mind wander…

"Arthur Kirkland, you are accused of using witchcraft!"

The voice echoed between the houses surrounding the big marketplace.

"The accuser says, that you have poisoned the well with the content of this bottle."

A brown bottle was placed on a small table. In spite of his very sore chained wrists, Arthur fought to hold back a laughter.

"Do you have anything to say to your defense?" Priest Braginski looked down at him, with a contemptuous look written all over that smug face of his. A chuckle ran through the crowd. Arthur just rolled his eyes, not letting the same old joke get to him anymore. Could they not come up with something new? It was no secret that he was mute from birth.

When he did not respond, the priest smirked, looking like he had already won the case. Seated across from them was judge Edelstein. Coughing slightly and adjusting his glasses, he said "lead out the evidence!"

The crowd let a cow and two woman, each with a child on their arm, through.

Arthur sighed. Not this again..

He had helped the two children into the world shortly after each other. Unfortunately they were both born with a deficiency. The first one was born with two different eye colours, and the second having a strange looking lump instead of a right leg - nothing Arthur should take the blame for. He turned his gaze to the cow and wondered. But why the poor animal was here, he did not know.

"Look at these children! Look at their defects! They have been touched by dark magic!" The priest shouted, trying to scare and wind people up. It was a success and uneasy mumbles ran through the crowd, gradually becoming shouts.

"…not human."

"Burn him!"

Braginski's smile grew wider. Then a small girl, with brown hair tied into piggy tails by red ribbons, asked, "What about the cow? What is wrong with the cow, mummy?"

The crowd went silent and the priest's smile faltered. Arthur could see by the look on his face, that he wished, the question had remained unasked. Everybody's eyes followed Braginski closely, as he hesitantly walked over to the cow. "T-this cow... became a victim. Yes, yes a victim of…ehm a satanic ritual!"

The cow lifted op her head and snorted down the priest's neck, snot going everywhere. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur wasn't sure if the judge was amused or annoyed. Probably both. It finally occurred to Arthur why the cow had been dragged here. The priest needed three victims to accuse him of witchcraft, but his plan seemed to fail him. It was Arthur's turn to smirk now.

Turning a bright shade of red, Braginski wiped the back of his neck, humiliating laughter roared from the crowd. Arthur couldn't help but snicker. But then he frowned. The priest was no longer blushing. Instead he was looking right at Arthur, a cunning expression plastered on his face.

Braginski straightened his back and marched towards Edelstein and whispered something in his ear. The judge facial expression turned from slightly amused to a stiff mask of fear. When Braginski finally pulled away, Edelstein stood from his chair.

"I have seen quite enough," he stated, his eyes not able to look the accused in the eyes."I have reached my decision." His voice cracked, as he continued,

"Arthur Kirkland, you are found guilty in the use of witchcraft and dark rituals. You are condemned to the stake in thirteen days time." For a moment time stood still. It was like someone had muffled the sound of the world.

Then all hell broke loose.

People were screaming and shouting, most of them in joy and excitement. Arthur stared perplexed at the judge, not believing what he'd just heard.

This couldn't be.

Where was the justice?

He could feel the cold spread through his body. What had Braginski just said? What was it that had made Edelstein change like that?

Realizing he was shaking - his soul, heart and brain in total mess - Arthur fought to hide his feelings.

Two men lifted him up onto a cart and drove him to the tower. The tower was only used to keep thieves and murderers before execution. The trip out to the prison went by in a blur of sore wrists, bumps in the road and the feeling of disgust eating him from the inside.

After pushing him through the entrance, the men shoved him to the floor and kicked him in the stomach before locking him up. After they'd left, Arthur laid completely still where they had left him. Not wanting to move, to breathe. To live. It just hurt too much.

He didn't know for how he long laid there, not even moving when some of the volunteering villagers brought him food. Some came to spit on him and curse his damned soul. Others simply pitied him.

Arthur's chest hurt from the memory, but he didn't cry. His tears had dried out a long time ago. He didn't need their pity.

A sound made him snap out of his dark thoughts, pulling him back to an even darker reality.

He could hear them. They were coming for him. No more chances to escape. He could no longer try to break free and run from this horrible reality. Once he had managed to escape, and Arthur had been on the run for two days. But they had caught up to him, whipping him for his attempt at freedom.

The sound of a horse and cart stopping right under his window reached his ears. He thought he was prepared for this, but as the panic kicked in, his breath got caught in his throat. But still his eyes wouldn't let him cry.

The hinges of the floor entrance creaked as it was opened, and to his surprise Edelstein was now standing in front of him.

"Arthur. I'm… T-they just…" Unable to express what he wanted to say, the judge went silent and instead just looked at him, sadness and shame clearly showing in his eyes. Whatever he saw in Arthurs own forest green eyes apparently became too much for him, as he shifted his gaze to something just above the prisoner. When he finally spoke, his voice was unable to stay unshaken.

"Arthur, if you admit, that you have used dark magic, then your time in purgatory will shorten and you will have access to heaven. I beg you. P-please don't make this any harder on yourself."

Arthur turned his head away. He did not know, what he had hoped for, but certainly not a speech about, how long his soul was going to boil after his execution. Edelstein began to fiddle with something, Arthurs silence making him uncomfortable. When he finally turned towards the judge, he shook his head, his greasy bangs falling into his eyes. He hadn't used any magic. Hell, he didn't even believe in that kind of thing. But admitting a lie now after thirteen days, was too low, even for Arthur's leftover pride.

His judge sighed heavily as he took off his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, I gave you the option. Now there is no more I can do for you." He muttered something else as well, but Arthur couldn't make out all the words. Something about Edelstein himself and that he did it for his family's sake? Then he handed Arthur some clean clothes, but the smaller man simply pushed the judge's hand away. Being condemned to the stake and burned alive, he was going to face death in his own clothes, no matter how dirty they were.

Arthur swallowed a large lump in his throat, as Edelstein helped him down from his cell. Arthur looked up and noticed bitterly, just how perfectly the now overcastted sky suited his mood.

Two young men waited for them by the cart, and they each took him by the elbow, trying to lift him on to the cart. Shaking off their hands, Arthur wondered if he really looked that weak and pitiful, so people - even though he was clearly damned - still wanted to help him? Sitting down, he tried to straighten his back. The two men took place opposite him, and he suddenly recognized them as the Vargas twins. One a baker, the other a shoemaker. A jerk went through the cart as the horse was ordered to move.

In that moment something burst inside Arthur. With every step the horse took, with every turn and with every bump in the road, the bonfire got closer.

In the distance he could hear noise from a big crowd. They reached the village, and the cart rattled through tight streets. There were people everywhere, packed on the streets or hanging from windows. Arthur looked down at his chained hands, willing them to be still. But when they reached the marketplace his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Then tears swelled up in his eyes, striping his dirty cheeks as they fell. Suddenly he was crying so hard, that his guards got uncomfortable.

The cart stopped, and Arthur eyed his surroundings through the tears. His heart was beating hurtfully in his chest.

Every single family from the village seemed to had shown up. Turning his gaze a bit to the right, he saw the three raised platforms. One for the judge, one for the village bailiff and one for the bonfire and stake. A stake surrounded by piles of brushwood. Arthur winced.

Oh God!

A sermon was read aloud. Still sitting on the cart he listened and clung to every word about God's mercy. Arthur was desperately trying to find comfort and courage in them. Not able to bear the thought of going through this alone, he prayed that God would be there for him. Begging the Lord to give him a quick death.

Then he was suddenly pulled out of his prayers, as someone grabbed him, dragging him down from the cart. Arthur screamed and began to cry again. Without any hesitation they pulled him towards the bonfire and tied him to the stake.

Hiccups and sobs escaped his dry lips. Everywhere he looked there were people, all staring right back at him.

But then Arthur saw him. The small boy who used to always follow Arthur around, wherever he went. Alfred was his name. Alfred with the beautiful blue eyes. He had been the only one accepting Arthur for what he did. Never judging him on his lack of voice, or the fact that he knew a lot about the way of Mother earth, Alfred had taken a rare place in his heart, as his only friend. The boy was no more than five summers old, and understood little what was going on. But judging on how his normally joyful eyes were hard and sad, Alfred knew enough. Their eyes locked, and Alfred sitting on his father's shoulders, reached unconsciously towards Arthur with his tiny hands.

A grateful expression slowly found its way to Arthur's face. He was not alone. There was one, who did not wish to see him burnt. May God be with this child. He kept his gaze on the boy, until a voice echoed through the crowd,

"…and let this be a lesson to us all!" The village bailiff nodded to his executioner. Arthur could feel the panic run through his body. A man, whose face was covered by a black mask, came towards him with a torch in his hand.

Everyone had gone quiet now, watching closely as the executioner walked around the bonfire and torched it in several places. The tiny flames were now dancing and jumping around Arthur, and he tried to fix his eyes on something else. The crowd was no longer silent and villagers began to shout. Calling him names he didn't bother to understand.

The fire grew fast and spread quickly. Arthur let his gaze drop down to the flames. They were getting closer. The heat hit his ankles like waves. He turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut. The crowd was screaming and some threw stones at him. The flames crawled up towards Arthur's feet. He winced and moved his feet back a few inches. But it didn't help. A few seconds after, the flames caught his toes. Oh God it burned! He gasped for air and looked down at his feet again. Blisters took form on them, but soon they were gone in the flames. They continued to crawl upwards, catching onto the seams of his knee long trousers, and singed the skin of his legs.

Oh God, please let me die now! I beg you, take this pain away! Don't let me go through this!

He could hear his own blood sizzle in the fire. He began to suffocate by the thick clouds of smoke. Arthur opened his mouth to scream, but could barely breathe. The flames ate through his thin clothes, and the smell of singed flesh found its way to his nose. The pain was unbearable. He heard his own gasping sobs and screams. He wanted to look at the sky, in a last attempt of a prayer, but all he could see was black smoke.

Arthur could no longer scream. The fire burned in his lungs, his throat.

Jesus! Oh Jesus Christ!

He could feel his consciousness slipping. The smoke twisted up over the village roofs. It was beginning to thin out in the cloud cover, and the sun fought to break through. As Arthur's chin dropped to his chest, the sky opened up in one long sunbeam.


End file.
